Solanaceae
by Dissonencia
Summary: Hades and Persephone's story do not stop being an ancient myth


_Disclaimer: _I do not own Bleach. I make no profit.

_Warning: I'm trying dark fics, you have been warned. OOC. Parallels. Angst._

_Chapter Word Count:1,390_

_General Summary: Hades and Persephone's story do not stop being an ancient myth. _ AU

**Solanaceae**

**I**

…**o0o…o0o…o0o…**

_Is it wrong to lust for light_?

No need for heavy, dark drapes around the tall, wide gaps in his stone wall. Such things are useless. No _light_ to protect them from. No such foreign _thing_ in this decayed world.

It's the only thing devoid of him, _his_ world.

_He is god_.

He is god of an abysmal place where no light reaches. But when it did, it _disappears_ almost immediately.

He can't claim her as his completely.

He'll lose her halfway, before the year ends.

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…**o0o**…

Perfect.

He is god.

…of the _underworld_.

With thieves dressed in polished suit and expensive tie while stealing penny from a poor child but done in a grander, more malicious and less noticeable way.

Kurosaki Ichigo sat in the dark tinted glass room, watching a rather classic film, a 1949 gangster movie. The noir film, its blandness contrasted the action depicted passed his eyes to his brain, processed nothing.

_Tick. Tock_.

With a little more than amused chuckle, he shifted in his seat, straightened his kink back muscles and pause a scene where the lead man was diagnosed with psychosis. He leaned closer, his handsome face contorted with an unfamiliar expression. _Funny_. They look like his grandparents during the 1940s.

He dropped the remote and sluggishly got up from the velvet chair. He took the un-iced liquor from the side table and stared at the glass window. He was still a bit slurry from his activities hours ago. Bangs-covered, half-lidded eyes stared at the modern city.

Kurosaki Ichigo looked at it with loathe.

Modern city still with traces of his ancestors' work.

Dark. Misty. Hollowed. Cold. Inhabitants with impossibly high debts –to him, actually. A nurtured place for sinister souls. It's his _estate_, his playground and he hates it.

Just a few blocks away, a riot was happening. There was _always_ a riot. Mini war for food. Mini war for money. Mini war without the use of high-powered guns and machine but of poles, rusty butcher knives and weak improvised bombs. Mini war that can turn to mass homicide. Mass homicide that kills _already_ dead people.

But inside this room… it was terribly serene.

This metered place that he spent three nights.

Police siren and neon lights met his senses. The bright lights scarred his retina, and the siren ruined his eardrum. It's _normal_. He looked outside, uninterested. His eyes squinting to see the heavy smoke from a cheap bar, where riot police and mob were exchanging bullets. Such _normalcy_.

He stared again at the glass and he knew that the five seconds that he looked at the amber liquid also took five lives.

It's his _world_.

Time to leave.

Kurosaki Ichigo, a _matured_ man. With confidence, abrasiveness and sometimes aggressive nature tops his multilayered personality. Its _core_, hidden away, locked away, _never seen_.

A man living for twenty-five years. Ruthless, possibly. Killer, obviously. Unfeeling, definitely. Harsh twenty-five years without his family and where everybody feared his every word, every step. The mafia or the underworld named him their _god_. A boy to a man within a few years. He ruled them.

His rule. His world foreshadows so much of the outside world that law enforcement were thought to be puppets and useless. And politicians were his lapdogs. And people were homeless. And children were starved to death. And inhabitants were disdainful and resentful to him.

It has become their radical truth: that the world is a bad place. And he was nothing but the poster-boy of _that_ place.

_And yet…_

He can still utter this word with so much sincerity.

"_Sorry_."

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A deathly sound filled _her_ ears. _She_ mentally cringed. It was such a harsh word, it was such an evil statement, and it was nothing but dreadful. It was bad.

_She_ knew she never hated any man this much before.

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…**o0o**…

For a god, _intimacy_ is not always exclusive to one mortal or immortal.

It's like an unwritten and unbroken rule to be polygamous _wherever_ you are, _whoever_ you are.

But for some reason, _with her_, the whole concept _does not exist_.

"_Why did you deceive me_?"

There it is, the blaring question she has been meaning to ask him.

The god of the _underworld_ heard her clearly, her voice, sharp and clear.

"Mmn…"

He decided to stall, didn't answer her immediately and continued to press light, hot kisses on the curve of her neck down to her chest. Knowing full well her eyes followed his head bobbed up and down her naked chest…His tongue really is tickling, for a moment, Rukia forgot her question. Just for a moment. Her soft and tiny hands caught his head, a little too forceful.

"_Ichigo_."

Ah.

_His true name_.

She really wanted answer.

He stopped with his ministrations and hovered above her head, one elbow beside her head, his other arm, snaked around her thin waist. Maybe, up in mortal world, humans usually describe the eyes of their lovers as a cherished physical attribute. Here, it's just the same but instead of churning out poetic lines of intricate language, he'd rather stare at it and just lose the words and _feel lost_.

And that's it.

"So I could bring you here." he stated casually, looking carefully at the visage of _his wife_.

Her dainty eyebrows arched a little. She was always like this when she does not agree much with his answer.

And before she could answer, he said "…and I didn't exactly deceive you, I rescued you."

"..And I never needed it." She countered.

Ichigo laughed, "Right. Bleeding in the snow, crawling out of your own blood, barely conscious, barely breathing. Just mere minutes and I'll see you in _my_ Underworld. Right. You need _no_ rescue."

"I didn't ask you."

"_I don't need to be asked_."

Rukia blinked.

Well…some could say that _Hades_ was the worst.

To Rukia, the young goddess who spent a year with him thought that this god was too much overshadowed by the reputation _given_ to him not the true personality he possesses.

Her husband. The god of the underworld was often misunderstood with his sulking, aggressive temperament and dark reputation. Rukia, who shared the same sentiments with the common mortals and immortals alike was proved gravely wrong after he abducted her…

She cupped his face with her hands, he closed his eyes.

He was really an attractive _god_ in a human image with wild features. The smoldering eyes, the vibrant, long hair that run past his neck. His built: his hard, tout muscles. Masterful hands, skillful mouth. His _erotique_ skills.

_Tomorrow_, she will leave him.

No wonder, Ichigo has been keeping her specifically close during these last months. He knew sooner, she will have to go, _again_.

As if he could read her mind, he whispered "_Stay_." With his eyes still closed.

Rukia was slightly apprehensive that when he opens his eyes, she'll see the _berserker_.

"I can't."

"Why not?" he was still above her and _inside_ her, eyes still closed.

The force of his voice echoed in the stone walls, this particular subject has been known to set his tempers sky high. He hated seeing her go and leave him.

Rukia remembered last year, when she left him with not even a simple goodbye and he stormed the earth just to find her…that was _not_ a pleasant memory.

They are lovers _now_. Intimately, passionately, sexually. _They are lovers_.

Surely, it would not make sense that once a year, they part ways. So these past few days, Ichigo had been making love to her almost every time he got the chance. Trying to convince her that she should stay here, with him. _It's not like before_, he would understand.

"_Stay_."

He was very, very persistent.

"Ichigo…"

"Rukia, I would kill anyone just to let you stay here."

…**o0O0o…**

_To be continued_

**Author's Note**

*iz confus*

And iz mind-struggling too.

Okay, I was supposed to update my others stories then I stopped and thought: nope, not yet, too much angst. Maybe, next, next, next day.

I don't know why but I feel like combining two themes in one narrative because they follow the same myth. Believe me, they are _so_ related. In the upcoming chapters, I promise I'll put more details. Maybe I'll go back to my normal 8-9k per chapter writing length.

And to those familiar with _The Meeting with the Goddess_… nope, not really following Campbell's Hero's Journey.

Can I save the lemon for next chapter? *shrugs* already did. Sorry, _Empress_…

Thanks for reading!

*goes off to _so-unrequited_'s tumblr to lol before Zzzz*.

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**Preview.**

…**o0o…**

_The Meeting with the Goddess._

_._

_When Kurosaki Ichigo attends social function, it means he's really needed._

_He wasn't very particular about keeping his identity a real, hard secret. Rumors do their dirty work. The politicians know him but dare not speak of it. The other high-ranking men have a hunch with his identity but never breathe a word of suspicion._

_No bodyguards. But he carries a sword with all the time._

_It's like a silent torture to those working against him. They know the enemy but they can't touch him. No evidence. Nothing. Years of digging dirt heralded them nothing. _

…

…

…

**Love me or Hate me?**

**Dissonencia.**


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